


Sins of the Father

by literati42



Category: The Good Cop (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Feels, Father and son bonding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, OCD explored, TJ is OCD, TJ needs a hug, TJ whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-08-04 06:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16341233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literati42/pseuds/literati42
Summary: Tony the Tiger Caruso has made some enemies along the way. He always knew these things could come back to bite him, but he never imagined they could come for his son.





	1. Something Hinky

TJ stood by the counter trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He and Cora had just wrapped a three week long case. It took long hours, but they got their suspect at last. Now, after only two hours of sleep, he was back on the clock soon. He felt spent. The sound of Anthony, Sr. singing entered the room before the man himself appeared. TJ rubbed the bridge of his nose.  
“Don’t forget you have an interview today.”  
“And good morning to you, sunshine,” Tony said.  
“Don’t forget, alright?”  
“Am I having Déjà vu or did we have this exact conversation?”  
TJ let out a sigh, “We’re having this conversation again because last time you left before the interview.” Big Tony patted his son’s cheek in a classic mixture of loving and dismissive that was so uniquely his father.  
“You look like shit. Are you not resting enough? Maybe you would sleep better if you didn’t feel so guilty for badgering your poor father.”  
TJ rolled his eyes, but a treacherous smile stole out. His father also had a way of doing that.  
A thunk sounded as something hit the door. Tony glanced at his son, both frowning. “Must be a package,” said the father. He danced his way to the front door, opened it, and collected the brown paper wrapped parcel. He came back. “Would you look at that. It’s for me.”  
TJ looked up, his frown deepening.  
“Whatever you are about to say, don’t. Just because it is for me doesn’t mean it’s anything hinky.”  
“Who would send you a package, Dad?”  
“Maybe it’s some of my remaining fans from the Johnny Knight gig.”  
TJ started to answer but shut his mouth again. He was too tired for this. He went back to his glass of orange juice. Then he heard a sharp inhale. His eyes snapped to his father. Tony was staring into the box, face pale.  
“Dad?” TJ was across the room in a heartbeat. He took the box out of his father’s hand, sat it on the table. “Don’t touch it again.” His phone was out immediately, “Cora. I need you and Ryan at my house. Have him bring his equipment.” TJ met Tony’s eyes. “My Dad just got a death threat.”


	2. Rules Aren't for Perfect People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter explores a bit more of TJ's OCD. As someone with OCD myself, I relate to him so hard.

TJ stared at the board where the note was hanging in its evidence bag next to a picture of the dead, bloody rat that came in the box. He was not allowed to be on this case. Cora was working it with Loomis and Ryan. He would not break the rules, he was too close to this to work the case, but he could not look the other way. His father was at risk. He glanced toward where Cora was talking to Tony, going over his statement for the third time. TJ did not bother to listen. He knew all this already.  
Anthony Caruso caught Jerry Durand for armed robbery days before the scandals came out. Durand somehow got his hands on a competent lawyer who argued that the evidence collected by Tony was untrustworthy in light of his recent arrest.  
This was not the only case Tony’s corruption unraveled.  
Durand got out on a technicality and 5 hours later, murdered Betty Kent with her own pink hair ribbon for the meager $20 in her wallet. Durand was ultimately caught trying to flee the country. Brandon Kent, brother of the deceased, showed up in court every day of Tony Caruso’s trial. When he got convicted, Kent did an interview saying he hoped Caruso rotted in prison. “My sister would still be alive if that rat hadn’t got his cases thrown out. I hope he dies in there,” he said, straight to camera with murder in his eyes. Needless to say, he was not happy when Tony was released.  
“It’s him,” Tony said as TJ rejoined them. “I know it’s him.” The dead rat, the words dirty cop, were enough to tip him off, but the pink ribbon really sealed the message.  
“If it is him, he doesn’t care if we figure it out,” Cora said slowly. “He’s left too much for us to find.” She pressed Tony’s arm briefly. “We’ll get him.” She stood and inclined her head for TJ to follow. He trailed behind her. “Why don’t you take him home. We’ll put a protective detail on him, but he could probably use you around. Besides, you look like shit.” He met her eyes, hearing her beyond the words. She would do whatever it took to keep his father safe. He met her eyes and nodded.  
_-_-_  
TJ woke with a start, his gun draw and aimed directly at the sound. “Whoa, whoa,” Tony said, hands up. “I know I left dishes in the sink but this reaction is a little extreme even for you.” TJ let out a breath, lowering his gun. He had fallen asleep on the couch, his side arm on the table beside him. He sat up slowly, inching the cricks out of his spine.  
“Someone’s trying to kill you, Dad. You could imagine why I would be on edge,” TJ said. He hunted his glasses off the table and the world slowly came into focus.  
“It was a threat.” Tony shrugged. “We’re both cops. We know threats happen all the time.” He waved to the window, “There are cops outside watching the house. Cops outside, us cops inside. You can take a breath.”  
TJ shook his head, “Dad, I’ve stared into the eyes of killers before. Brandon Kent is not just making threats.” Tony waved this off, coming over to sit in the chair near his son. “After what happened…”  
“You sound like you don’t blame him,” Tony said, eyeing his son. “You think that girl’s death is my fault.” TJ sighed again.  
“It happened because of you. Because of choices you made. I don’t know if that makes it your fault.” TJ looked up and they caught each other’s eyes. He studied his father like he would a crime scene. “Do you think about her? About Betty Kent?”  
Tony waved a hand. TJ could see him attempting to be cavalier and striking not quite in the right place. “You never forget the cases that go south, even if its no one’s fault.” The son hung his head, hands folded and fidgeting.  
“I think about her, a lot.”  
Tony lifted his chin slightly, confused. “You had nothing to do with it.”  
“I know. But I do think about her. You do good work, you put in the hours, you find the evidence, you caught the suspect. Everything, everything works but you make one misstep. You forget to check one box and everything unravels. It’s like Mom said, ‘you break one rule, they all break.’ You forget to double check your work, you might as well have never started. You have to hit every step or none of them count.”  
Tony gave a dismissive laugh, “Yeah, for the rest of us, not for you. You never miss a box or a step.”  
He shook his head, “I’m not perfect. Why do you think I have so many rules? You have to, you have to build fences to cordon off dangerous areas. Rules are the same way. Rules keep you from going too far. Perfect people don’t need rules.”  
Tony rocked back in the chair. TJ knew that stare. He got it often, from a lot of people. Sometimes at the office, or when talking to TV stars like Johnny Knight, it was followed by terms like “neurotic” or “pathological.” All he knew was the scrutiny held a physical weight.  
“You’re saying if you run broken red lights or take sugar packets, someone could die?” Tony said.  
“Yeah, if that’s how it starts.” TJ stood up. “I don’t want to with fight you when someone’s out there trying to kill you.” He collected his gun. “The officers are outside, I’m going to check in with Cora.” He was heading to the steps, aiming for a clean shirt when his father finally spoke.  
“Look, I may not understand you. Even a little bit, and this conversation has me convinced I understand less than I thought, but you do know you’re a good man, don’t you?”  
TJ looked at him. He saw his father, a man with a moral compass so broken it never pointed north, but a man who loved him with abandon, watching him with worry in his eyes. “I have to get to work,” he said. He headed up the stairs. He did not know if he was a good man or not, but he had enough rules that he never needed to find out.  
Five minutes later, he was back down and heading to the door when big Tony stood up.  
“Son. Wear your vest,” he said, and then “I love you.” He didn’t need to say both, TJ knew they meant the same thing. He stopped his progress and went over to hug his Dad.  
“I love you too. Stay safe.”  
_-_-_  
“There’s something not right about this note,” Cora said, arms crossed as she stared at the words.  
“I know, his handwriting is a mess,” Ryan said. “He should take penmanship classes…penpersonship classes?”  
“I hear they offer a really good one in prison,” Loomis said. It might have sounded like a cheesy threat in any other officer’s mouth, but Loomis so obviously lacked any sense of humor. Probably they did offer classes there.  
Cora shook her head. “No, the wording. ‘I will end you like you ended me’.” She shook her head. “He didn’t end Brandon.”  
“Maybe it felt like an end,” Ryan said, motioning to his screen. “He was a chemical engineer, top marks, with job prospects all over the world before his sister died. Since then he’s been taking odd jobs, but apparently he hasn’t worked anywhere in the months since Tony got out.”  
“According to his parents, they hadn’t spoken to him for years even before the murder. Apparently, completely estranged. She was the only family he had left. Now, if you excuse me. It’s time for my regular lunch break.”  
Cora turned around. “What did you just say?”  
“It is lunch time,” he replied, walking to his desk and pulling a sub mysteriously from a drawer.  
“No,” she walked over, putting her hands on Loomis’ desk. “She was the only family he had left. He thinks Tony took the only family he had left.”  
Ryan was staring at her and Loomis was listening intently while staring at his sub.  
“He’s going to end Tony the way he was ended, losing the only family he has left.”  
Now both sets of eyes were fixed on her.  
“Lieutenant,” Ryan said. Cora jerked her phone out, dialing TJ’s number.  
She got an autoreply text: “I cannot answer the phone right now because I am driving. Texting or talking on the phone while driving is an infraction.”  
“Keep trying him,” Cora said to Ryan, hanging up and dialing the other Caruso.  
_-_-_  
Tony let his mind carry back to his conversation with his son, even as he walked lightly around the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast. His son’s attention to rules always confused him, but it had never actively worried him before. But today’s conversation, the level of self-doubt ranging almost to self-loathing. It hit him. He knew his son doubted him, but he had no idea that feeling turned inward too. He thought for a moment back to the bowling case. What did TJ say? Finally, he was doing something to make his father proud. Had his son really believed he was never proud of him?  
Tony let out a breath. It was too early in the day for troubling thoughts, and Big Tony the Tiger Caruso never let the negativity linger. He just would not let it. So he fixed two more cups of coffee and carried them out to his police detail. Watching a silent house was boring work, but being forced to stay aside one was also. Maybe they could shoot the breeze a few minutes.  
Five minutes later, he sat in the back of the police car—unofficially this time. “That’s when I said, okay kid. God’s speed.” He stuck the landing on his story and the two cops up front burst into laughter. His phone went off just as the laughter was dying down.  
“Cora,” he said, voice full of warmth. “Everyone’s concern is so touching. Maybe I should get threatened more often.”  
“Tony.” Her tone cut him short. “Where’s your son?”  
“Anthony? He’s on his way to you. You know he won’t answer while he’s driving.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“I…” Tony hesitated, “What’s going on, Cora?”  
His blood ran cold, the next words out of her mouth distorting in his ears. “Kent isn’t after you. He’s after TJ.”  
_-_-_  
TJ left the house worried. Worried for his father even if there was a police detail. He would go in quick, and check in with Tony often. He did not want his Dad getting any ideas about shaking off his police detail. He drove to that familiar street with the broken light and stared up at it as it continued, minute by minute to be red. “You break one, they all break,” he said to himself, and then, “Betty Kent.”  
“Get her name out of your mouth, kid.”  
TJ’s heart stopped dead in his chest at the voice behind him. He grabbed his gun, turning in one fluid motion. It was too late. He felt something prick his neck just as he turned enough to see Brandon Kent looking right at him, withdrawing a syringe.  
TJ knew at once that he was right. He had not checked all the boxes. He never checked his own car.


	3. You Break One...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major shout out to my Good Cop fan community (Eienvine, Angelsavengeme, LavaStar, Penny, silentxsymphony and WeirdoStarKid) all of the fanning out and being nerds together fills me with ideas daily! You all are my muses :) 
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on twitter @literati42 or come say hi on tumblr where I am also literati42.

Tony stood on the sidewalk by the damned broken red light, staring at his son’s car crunched into the light pole. Uniforms were swarming the car for clues, but Tony did not need to take a step closer to see there was no person there. No…body. His brain felt like it was moving through mud trying to process everything in front of him.  
“Tony,” his name seemed to be coming to him from a tunnel. Even when a hand dropped on his shoulder, and he turned enough to see Cora’s lips moving, she sounded far away to him. “You shouldn’t be here.”   
“Detective Vasquez,” one of the officers said, standing up. “We have blood on the driver’s seat.”   
“Blood…” Tony said.   
“How much?” Cora said, her tone going emotionless.  
The officer focused on Tony for a moment, then said more slowly, “Not much, it would be a small wound.”   
_-_-_  
The dimly lit room came slowly into focus. TJ stared at an exposed bulb swinging back and forth, back and forth. His eyes struggled to track it. He blinked quickly, something liquid getting into his eyes. He lifted his right hand, feeling something warm and sticky on his forehead. He lifted his fingers away, they were red with blood.   
Footsteps sounded from somewhere above him?  
“Hey,” he said, trying to yell but getting out only mumbled words, “I think…I need to go to a doctor. I think I’m hurt.” TJ pulled to sit up and felt a sharp pain on his left arm. Slowly he moved his eyes to the handcuff attaching him to a pipe. Adrenaline began to work its magic, clearing his thoughts.  
He was hurt. He had no idea who he was with. He was trapped.  
He pushed himself up to a sitting position, trying to ignore the way the room swayed. TJ closed his eyes, listening. The footsteps seemed to be pacing. Now that he was focusing he could hear talking. It sounded like only one voice. He could not make out the words.  
TJ opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. It looked like a regular, unfinished basement. There were books, musty from years of water leaks. There were tools, old paint cans. The single light he already saw above him, and stairs leading up. He reached his free hand behind him to try and maneuver himself around, but his hand did not touch concrete. It touched material. TJ turned slowly around.  
A pair of dirty boots came into view first. Then the rest of the man, skin pale and lips blue. Dead. This man too had been handcuffed to another of the water pipes in the basement. Then there he was, laying with a bullet directly through his head. “Execution style,” TJ said. He leaned toward the body, his heart pounding. He knew that face.   
It was the lawyer that helped get Jerry Durand off after Tony’s arrest.  
The fear was pounding inside his head, but TJ reverted back to what he knew. He took in every detail about the body, categorizing them like he would on any case.  
He froze.   
The pacing overhead stalled, then the movements came toward the door at the top of the old, wooden stairs. The door opened, light flooding into the basement. Creak, thunk, creak, thunk. Someone came down the stairs. TJ reached toward the body to check his pockets for anything to fight back with but hesitated. He could not contaminate the body before his team had a chance to look at it. Instead, TJ used his good hand to search his own pockets. No keys, no phone, and definitely no gun. Whoever this was had taken everything off him. He struggled with the handcuff, trying to pull the pipe loose. It was too strong. He would need leverage. He maneuvered his legs toward the wall, bracing his feet to push off.  
“Enough.”  
TJ stopped struggling and looked toward the figure. Brandon Kent stood, backlit from the doorway above. It had been years since TJ saw this man on the infamous interview, and those years had not been kind to him. He looked haggard and wild-eyed as he came closer. Brandon pulled up an old, white bucket and sat on it.   
“It was you,” TJ said, a hazy memory of trying to drive to work and getting jumped in his car coming back to him.  
“Yes,” he said. “Your father doesn’t get to live a happy life after what he did. With you gone, he won’t.”   
“Neither will the defense attorney,” TJ said. He frowned, “Why am I still alive?”  
Brandon narrowed his eyes. Above them, a door opened. “Don’t worry. You soon won’t be.” He stood up and moved toward the stairs.  
“Is someone else here?” TJ asked, “Hey! Help!” he called out. Brandon turned around.   
“No one here is going to help you. Now, you were trying to escape when I came down?” Brandon turned around, aiming his gun. TJ’s body jerked, pain exploding in his leg. “That should slow you down.”   
TJ’s whole world focused in on pain. There was a flash of light, and then TJ faded out to the sound of creak, thunk, creak, thunk.  
_-_-_  
Cora punched the wall, ignoring the pain it sent through her hand. Burl was beside her, looking completely at a loss. Ryan was typing furiously, trying to find any security camera or traffic camera footage to give them a lead on where TJ went. Cora knew she and TJ would have figured this out, as a team. Now the group of them felt at a loss. One piece felt missing from their unit, one piece broken and now all of it was breaking.   
She focused her attention on Tony. The former cop, although generally not allowed in this station per the terms of his parole was here again for the second time that day. She needed Tony, Sr. somewhere she could see him, to keep him safe and keep him from doing something perilously stupid in pursuit of his son. From the moment Cora met Tony, it was obvious how much he loved his son. Still, she felt sure in her gut TJ would have been shocked by the state his father was in. Outward displays of affection always took TJ by surprise.  
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Where the hell are you, TJ? She thought.  
The father stood, showing why he earned the nickname Tony the Tiger. He prowled over to her, his eyes staring down the other cops in the bullpen. “Where’s the urgency in this place?” he practically growled to Cora. “A cop is missing. People should be swarming in and out of here. People should be on high alert. Where’s the fraternity of brotherhood?”  
“We’re doing everything we can,” Cora said.  
“Yes, you are. What about them?” He waved his hand. A few of the beat cops in question looked up. Tony was not exactly keeping his thoughts quiet.   
“We would have more manpower to find him if it wasn’t for the Lieutenant,” one cop said to another. It was spoken low, but not quite low enough. Tony the Tiger Caruso nearly pounced, reaching their desk in a moment.  
“What did you say,” he looked at the badge, “Officer Troy?”  
“Nothing, we are just working.”  
“It didn’t sound like nothing. It sounded like you disrespecting my son.”  
“Tony,” Cora put a hand on his chest to hold him back. “Officer Troy, go check on the APB.”  
“I already did.”  
“Check it again,” this time her words were a warning. He left quickly, and Cora caught Tony before he could move to follow.   
He growled, marching back to Burl and Ryan. “I told him,” he said as Cora followed. “I told him. I told him he can’t risk alienating the other officers. I told him he would need these guys one day.”  
“Look,” Cora said sharply, “I know it’s an easy default for you to just blame TJ. That man is pissed because TJ reported his partner for planting evidence. It was the right thing to do, a concept I know you are not familiar with.” She stopped, sighing. “I know you’re worried and when you’re worried you go back to your baseline of shittiness, but right now, I can’t hear another bad word about your son without losing my shit. So maybe keep it inside.”  
He deflated, sinking into a chair. “He just has to be okay,” he said. He hung his head. Cora closed her eyes, feeling bad for shouting. She kneeled down, putting her hand on his arm.  
“We’ll find him. Whatever it takes.”   
“Um…Detective,” Ryan’s voice carried over to them. She looked up, he was pale, paler than usual. She walked over as he lifted his phone and showed her.  
It was a text message that said simply, “Dirty cops don’t win.” Burl and Tony were at her shoulder, all trying to see at once as Ryan’s phone dinged again. This time, a photo coming through. They all watched together as a picture of TJ, covered in blood and handcuffed to a water pipe filled his phone screen.


	4. ...They All Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter is here! And several quick announcements.  
> There is a petition to save our beloved Good Cop, and hopefully bring it back from the dark hole of cancellation. Sign the petition at: chng.it/YD2kfLcS
> 
> You can also join the Good Conspirators for a Winter Fic challenge! We are hosting it and it starts on Dec 1, with the writing prompts dropping on Nov 23! Check the challenge out here: thegoodchallenge.tumblr.com
> 
> Don't forget to follow me @themythofpsyche on twitter or my blog existentialwednesdays.wordpress.com
> 
> Also, as always, so much love go out to my ladies of the Good Conspirators! You all keep me inspired to write.

She was blurry, leaning down over him with her head tilted to the side. She was in that black tank top she wore when boxing in the gym, her hair in a ponytail. TJ wondered why she was not cold. He was so cold. “You’re going to bleed to death,” Cora said. “You need to wake up.” She reached for his shoulder, but he did not feel her touch. “Wake up. Wake up, TJ. Don’t die on me yet, not before I get to you.”  
His eyelids fluttered open. There was no Cora, no hand on his shoulder, but there was blood. He groaned in pain. The bullet was a through and through, if he could get the wound staunched, he could give himself more time. Then there was the cold. Shock, his mind offered. That was not good. He tilted his head to look at what was around him. The body of the defense lawyer was the only other thing in reach.  
Contaminating evidence was a very serious infraction.  
“Well, at least we know if you die, the scene will be clean,” Tony said, shaking his head.   
“We can’t just make exceptions, Dad.” TJ closed his eyes. Dad? No. His Dad wasn’t here. He banged his head back against the concrete. He needed to stay clear. Stay awake. He focused back on the dead body, a cringe rolling through him as he reached out his hand first lightly touching the shirt, then grabbing the man’s tie. He unwound it with shaking fingers. It took three fumbling attempts to get it free, TJ maneuvered, turning it into a tourniquet above the bullet wound in his leg. “Bet you’re glad I got all those first aid badges now, Dad,” he said to the air. His head fell back against the floor. “No. Stay awake. Stay…” darkness came back over him.  
_-_-_  
Tony barged into Captain Delghetty’s office, slamming the door behind him. “What are you doing in here? Why aren’t you out there searching for my son?”  
The captain leaned back, lowering the phone in her hand to look at him sharply. She raised it again, “Yes. Send it out.” She hung up and crossed her arms. “I was on the phone, getting a message to every precinct in the greater tristate area to keep there eyes out for Brandon. For your son.” She stood. “We are taking this seriously.” She crossed over so there was no desk separating them. “Lieutenant Caruso, your son, is an invaluable part of this unit. Everyone out there,” she pointed to the bullpen, “Everyone has a high respect for him. There is no conspiracy. We are doing our upmost.” She lowered a hand to his shoulder. “We’ll find him.” Then she let out a breath, “That officer you had trouble with, he’s been reprimanded. He’s angry because of that empty desk over there, but I’ve had words with him. He will not be getting in the way.” She gave him a decided look, “There are no heads needing banged together, and if there are, I will do the headbanging.”  
Tony felt the steam go out of his anger. “I feel helpless.”  
“You’re not helpless. Go help Detective Vasquez. We could use your old detecting skills today. Your son needs you skills today.”   
_-_-_  
Burl watched Tony come out of the Captain’s office. He watched his old friend walk over to the desk currently vacated by the suspended officer, dropping his head to his hands. “Detective Loomis, it doesn’t make sense,” Ryan said. The older office turned to look at the tech, who was staring up at him, the glow of the computer heightened his natural paleness. “I can’t find them on any traffic camera. I’ve been looking everywhere he could have gone and nothing!”   
Burl took a step over and looked at the map Ryan had pulled up. “There aren’t cameras on every light.”  
“No, but a lot of them. It would almost be impossible to avoid them.”  
Burl’s brow furrowed. “It would be almost impossible.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Not impossible,” he said. “Chart the path they could have followed to avoid all cameras.” Ryan stared at him for a second more before Burl’s face darkened and the tech jumped to, typing away. It could work. It could give them…something.   
Cora came in, dropping her leather jacket on the desk. “Nothing. Not a damn thing.”  
“There are two paths he could have taken,” Ryan said suddenly. “And based on the photo, and the amount of time that passed, if I run that through an algorithm that includes traffic, I can figure out how far he could have made it.”   
“You found him on the traffic cameras?” Cora said, rushing over. Tony sat up, watching them all now.  
“It wasn’t what we found on the cameras,” Burl said, “It’s what we didn’t find. We think Kent avoided driving passed the traffic cameras.”  
“Is that possible?”  
“It’s not, not possible,” Ryan said. “And…done.” Cora rushed over, staring at his screen.   
“Those…huge circles are the estimate?” she said. “You can’t narrow it?” Ryan shook his head.   
“It’s a start, right?” Tony said, standing.  
Cora looked at him, then back at the tech. “Ryan, compare those radiuses to what we know about anything related to the Kent family.”  
Ryan frowned and began working. Burl nodded. If they could find something, even a tangential connection to any property in those areas. Maybe, maybe it would be soon enough.  
“There’s nothing in those areas,” Ryan said. “None of the old Kent properties are anywhere near there and Brandon didn’t own anything himself.”   
“Are you telling me you can’t find anything or you haven’t found anything yet?” Cora asked, her words hitting a staccato beat. Ryan looked at her.  
“I…don’t know how else I can even check…”  
Cora grabbed the mug off his desk and threw it. “Dammit!” The glass shattered against the precinct wall. She stood there, hand lowered to her side in a fist.   
Burl watched her, watched Ryan jump in fear. He could see the lines of strain in the young techs face as well. Cora and TJ were fire and ice. They worked together, her passion and his method, bouncing off each other and coming to solutions neither could reach alone. TJ also provided Ryan structure and support. Often it was in silent ways, but there was a safety to working with TJ that seemed to help Ryan. Now, with the Lieutenant gone, he looked skittish, uncomfortable in his own skin. And for Burl himself? He felt the loss of his partner like an appendage. TJ was the missing piece in their unit. Someone broke the piece off, now they were all breaking.  
_-_-_  
TJ woke slowly, sleep leaving him with more reluctance this time. He felt cold, but the pain was not as strong. Some part of his brain warned him that this was not a good development. His eyes slowly focused on the figure, sitting again on the overturned bucket. Brandon Kent. “Oh good, you’re awake,” he said. He leaned down, unlocking the handcuff.  
Escape, now, his mind whispered as he tried to lift his hand. It felt sluggish, and Brandon batted it away without effort. The man grabbed him by the wrists and began to drag him. Fresh pain shot through his wounded leg, and blinding white took over his vision.   
The images of the room came back to him. He was on the other side of the basement now. He tilted his head and saw Kent pull away a drop clothe to reveal a large vault. The metal box must have been put in when the basement was made, or it took a great deal of work afterward. It definitely was not put there recently. TJ’s mind was trying to access his detective abilities, but everything felt shrouded. It seemed to just be a big, empty, metal box in the floor. What purpose could it serve?   
“I suggested we just strangle you, like my sister was strangled,” Brandon said, “But, he said it would hurt your father more if it was slow.”  
“He?” TJ repeated, feeling five steps behind.  
“Good bye, Detective.”  
His mind caught up one second before Brandon grabbed him and dragged him the remaining distance to the vault. He fell inside, pain and agony overtaking fear at the impact. The box fit like a coffin.   
Footsteps on the stairs. “Call his father and leave the phone in there with him.”  
“They’ll trace it,” Brandon said.  
“Yes, but he’ll be long dead, and we’ll be long gone.”   
TJ looked up. He knew that voice. He knew that voice.  
_-_-_  
Tony watched the mug shatter, watched the best team of detectives he knew feeling defeated. He wanted to punch someone. He almost wished the officer from before would come back. Maybe he could start something with him again. He glanced at the space around him and hesitated. “Cora.”  
“Tony, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I’m working on this. We will find him.” She turned and saw the look on his face. “What?”  
“Is the desk I’m sitting at the officer that Anthony got fired?”  
“Yes.”  
Tony lifted the nameplate, “Officer Patterson?”   
“Yes…”  
“Would that be Andrew Patterson? Son of Brig Patterson?”   
“Yes…”  
Tony was up and over to Ryan in a moment, “You said somehow they avoided all the cameras? How would Kent have known where the cameras are? Who would know where all the traffic cameras are?” Before Ryan could answer he said, “Show me those areas again.” Ryan pulled up the map, looking to Tony. The former detective pointed. “There. He’s there. My son is there.”   
_-_-_  
“Patterson?” TJ said, staring up at him. “You’re…helping Kent?”  
Andrew Patterson, crouched down, staring into the hole. He was a young man, just out of academy. He had a classically handsome face, square jaw, sandy brown hair. He looked like the jock in an 80s teen movie. That face was twisted into a bitter smile. “Goodbye, Lieutenant.” He dropped a cellphone on TJ’s chest. He gave a slight wave, reached over and grabbed the lid, slamming it shut.  
Darkness descended around TJ, broken only by the blue light of his ringing phone. The lid of the vault was inches from his face, the walls touching his arms. He lifted a hand pushing against the lid. It would not work. His energy was gone, and the effort would only make the air run out faster. He closed his eyes tight, unwilling to stare at the space that would kill him.   
“Anthony?” his Dad’s scared voice rang in his mind. It sounded far away, not as clear as his last half lucid dream. “Anthony?” No, not a pain induced twist into dreams. He realized in a flash.  
“Dad?” he said, hearing the voice coming from the phone on his chest.  
“Did you get free? How are you calling me?”  
“Dad…”   
“We’re on our way to you. We’re on our way, son.”  
“It’s…too late.” TJ closed his eyes again. He knew at once what this was. Kent and Patterson were making his father listen to him die. He would breathe his last in a box, with his father listening on the phone, trying desperately to reach him on time.


	5. Two Paths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! It is here! Sorry for the long wait.
> 
> Major thanks to downbythebay, my good conspirator friend who helped me stayed motivated and gave me the extra push I needed to get this done.
> 
> I can't believe the end is finally here!
> 
> As always, follow me on twitter @themythofpsyche

Detective Tony the Tiger Caruso slid into the patrol car beside Officer Patterson. He nodded, handing the man a hoagie from JJ’s bodega. “Pat.”   
“Caruso.”  
“How’s the family?”  
“Little Andrew is a tiny whirlwind. His favorite word is ‘no.’ Got a will that one.” He glanced Tony’s way, “Yours?”  
“Oh, we know about willful. Anthony is still insisting on boy scouts over baseball.” Tony sighed, grabbing a bat from the floor of the car. “Imagine?”  
“Still, he’s a good kid.” Pat put down the hoagie. “And we have movement.” Tony passed the bat to Patterson, and they both got out of the car. “Hello there, Ridley.” A scrawny man cringed, backing up toward the alley away from them. Patterson approached, slapping the ball bat against his hand.  
A half hour later, Tony stood in a basement with Patterson, looking at the bat. “He got blood on it.”  
Patterson nodded, “There should be something to wipe it off over there.” The man pulled back a tarp, opening a vault in the floor. He tossed a bag of money in, closing it and covering it again. Tony wiped the bat off on an old rag. “Better go. I have to pick up TJ from his scouting meeting.”   
_-_-_  
Present Day  
“Patterson Sr went down with me, for…allegedly helping,” Tony told Cora as they drove. “But before that, we used his place as a…let’s call it a clubhouse. Patterson Jr inherited the place when Sr died in prison, more than likely he went back there.”   
“You better be right,” she said, frowning as they drove. Tony’s phone rang. He saw the name and snapped it open.   
“Anthony? Anthony?”   
“Dad?”   
Tony’s heart seized. “Did you get free? How are you calling me?”  
“Dad…”   
“We’re on our way to you. We’re on our way, son.”  
“It’s…too late.”  
Tony felt the blood go out of his face. “No, not it isn’t too late. We’re almost there.”  
Cora kept shooting looks at him.  
“No, it’s…” TJ’s voice began again. His voice sounded weak.   
“Speaker, Tony. Speaker,” Cora said, flying down the street. His hands shaking, he hit the button.  
“TJ,” Cora said, “Tell us where you are. Are you alone?”  
“Alone,” he said, his words were slow. Concentrated. “I think they are trying to get away.” There was space between the words and quiet quality that did not make sense. “I’m in a basement, unfinished. There’s a…” Tony heard a longer pause. “A vault in the floor.”  
Tony looked at Cora. “I was right, it’s the right place. TJ,” he said, “We figured it out. We’re on our way already.”  
“Dad…I told you, it’s too late,” he said. “You should…try to get them before they get away.”  
“TJ,” Cora interrupted. “Why is it too late? We know you’re injured. Is the…the wound bad?” She heard a shaky breath.  
“The wound? No…yes, that’s…not the problem. Just. Dad, I love you. Alright? Just trust me. You won’t get here in time. Just…know I love you.”  
“What are you talking about? We’re almost to you, son.”  
“You don’t ever listen, do you?” TJ let out a sigh. “I’ll run out of air. I’m…in the vault.”  
“What!” Tony shouted. Cora tried to get even a bit more speed out of the car.  
_-_-_  
TJ closed his eyes, listening to the panicked words coming from his father and the empty assurances from Cora. They would try to get to him, but they wouldn’t make it.   
“TJ?” Cora said, “Breathe slowly. You need to stay calm to conserve air. We’re going to get to you.” He heard her talk away from the phone, “Keep him calm.”  
“Anthony?” Tony said, his voice the worst fake calm possible. He sounded like he did that time he got shot on the job.   
TJ remembered it clearly even though he was only six. He remembered walking into the hospital and staring at his father, the man looking vulnerable the first time. Connie punched his unwounded shoulder. “I can’t believe you didn’t wear your vest,” she said. Tony groaned.   
“It barely touched me, Connie,” he said, then looking at TJ. “Hey, kiddo.” Then he used that voice, calm, though even at that age TJ could see through it. “Everything is fine.”  
“Anthony? Anthony?” the voice of his father in the present moment drew him back. “Stay with me, alright?”  
“I’m with you,” TJ said, “Dad…we should talk, this might be…this will be the last time…”  
“Don’t talk like that. It won’t. I know you want to get all the scolding of me in right now, but I promise. You’ll have plenty of chances to wear the hair off my head in the future.”  
“Dad…please…”  
“No. I don’t want to hear any of your last moment, bullshit. We’re almost there, and you shouldn’t be talking. Talking takes air.”  
“I can’t believe you’re arguing with me over my last words,” TJ said.  
“Remember that song I used to sing you?” Tony said, completely ignoring him. “Remember the one that I sang when you were little, and you had bad dreams?” He started singing, his gruff voice coming over the phones and drawing TJ make to those moments from years ago. “Anthony you’re all I’ve got. No man can untie that knot. There’s a problem on the block, you know I’ve got your back.”  
He remembered the same song, his father sitting on the edge of his bed with a hand on his shoulder. He was four or five. Big Tony’s voice carried him out of his nightmares back then.  
TJ gasped. He knew the air was getting low. He felt an instinctual panic beginning to rise in his chest. He tried to focus on the words his father was singing. “On the day the chips are down, and your friends cannot be found,” Tony sung over the phone. “You don’t have to turn around, I’ve always got your back.”  
TJ’s head was hurting, pounding through even the haziness of his gunshot wound.  
“Kid, I’ve got to scrape and fight.”  
Black spots were beginning to dot his vision. His father sounded farther away somehow. TJ felt his breath quickening against his will, his lungs desperate to get what air it could, his primal instincts not able to recognize they were beginning to pull in more and more CO2.  
“But when I look at you tonight, I know there’s one thing I got right. I’ve always got your…”  
Did the singing stop? Was his hearing going out? The headache was reaching a crescendo. It felt like the blood vessels were going to burst out of his skull. He could hear nothing and feel nothing but the desperate gulps of his empty lungs.  
The black spots took over.

On the other end of the line, the gasping stopped.  
Tony leaped out of the car before Cora could even screech to a halt. “Tony!” she called to him, but the man was already pounding up the porch steps. He slammed his shoulder into the door. It did not budge. Cora grabbed him and pulled him back, kicking in the door in, her gun out. Tony pushed past her, going straight for the basement. He took the steps two at a time, nearly tripping as he dropped on his knees, tore the tarp back and jerked open the vault door.   
TJ was still, blue tinging his lips, bright red blood soaking his pant leg.  
Cora dropped beside Tony, grabbing TJ and hauling him out. She began compressions, breathing into his mouth. The sirens, their back up rang outside. Tony stared at his motionless son, his own heart feeling like it had stopped.  
Compression.  
Compression.  
Cora breathed into him.  
Compression.  
Compression.  
_-_-_  
Several weeks before.  
TJ looked up as a young officer entered his office. His slightly tussled sandy brown hair and the swagger in his walk carried into his smile. “Little Tony! What can I do for you?”  
TJ cringed at the unwanted nickname, then pointed to the chair. “Officer Patterson, sit down please.” The smile faltered on the young man’s face. He took a seat and TJ slid a file across the table to him.   
The detective watched as Patterson’s face went through a series of changes, from obtrusive confidence to a blank expression that hinted at hidden depths of anger. “You can’t give this to the Captain.”  
TJ tilted his head to the side, “It is already done.”  
The young officer leaped from his seat then. He yelled, he reasoned in his way, but he never, not once admitted any fault. The words flowed over TJ as he watched him.  
“The thing I don’t understand,” TJ said slowly, “Is why? After your father died in prison for these exact crimes.”  
“Yeah, well. The sins of the father and all that? It’s never that simple, little Tony. You of all people should know that.”  
TJ remembered nearly the same words spoken by Cora about him. The sins of the father are hard to wash off. In that moment, she was talking about his drive to always do better, to be better, than his father. He looked at Andrew and saw a path diverge in the woods. The sins of his father sent TJ down a road of checking and rechecking and always fearing for the Betty Kent’s of the world, her death a tangible signs of the failure that occurs when the rules were broken.  
Andrew Patterson took a different road.  
Captain Delghetty stood beside his desk, later after Patterson was removed. “He’ll be gone. He’s not likely to serve time, but he’s not working as a cop again.”  
TJ nodded solemnly. “Yeah.”  
“You did the right thing, Lieutenant.”  
“I know,” TJ replied. And he did know. Enforcing the rules was the right thing to do, but he could not stop thinking of the two paths. The sins of the fathers.  
_-_-_  
Present  
TJ woke from a dream of that last conversation in the station with the younger Patterson. He felt the stiffness of the bed under him, the wires attached to him, and the haze of medication. He also felt a rough hand gently laid on his wrist. He turned his head slightly to see his father. Tony sat up immediately. “Anthony?”  
“Dad,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse.   
He saw the relief instantly flow over his father’s face. “You have got to stop letting this job take your breath away. First the sauna near suffocation, now this? I mean I’ve heard it’s a good high, but you can kill brain cells that way.” His father was talking a little too quickly for the casual tone he was trying for. “You haven’t lost any brain cells have you?”  
“I don’t think so?” TJ replied, “I think I’m just medicated.”  
“Yeah, luckily you have so many more brain cells than the rest of us, we may never notice.”  
TJ gave his father a hazy smile, then he frowned as the details started to congeal into a coherent memory. “Patterson and Kent…”  
“Don’t worry. They got um. Delghetty rode along, brought them in herself. Apparently, she takes kidnapping her best detective very seriously.” TJ watched his father sit back in the chair. He had a rare contemplative look. TJ tried to figure out what it meant, but his mind was still moving with medicated slowness.  
“When you left this morning, before…before everything. We had a conversation, you remember?”  
TJ frowned, letting his mind carry back. “When we talked about Betty Kent?”  
“Yeah. I thought about it later, about what I should have said and…then. I almost never got to say it to you.” He looked into his son’s eyes. “I am proud of you, Anthony.”  
The words took TJ entirely off guard. He found himself unable even to answer. Tony laid a hand on his son’s arm.  
“That song I wrote for you as a kid? Those weren’t just words. You are the one thing I got right. And to think…you almost got killed because of what I did.”  
“Dad…” TJ said, “No. Kent was your demon, but Patterson was mine.”  
Tony shook his head. “No. His father, Pat, he was one of my crew. I brought that into Andrew’s life.”  
“No, Dad. Andrew made his choices. He didn’t have to become his father.”  
“No, he could have chosen to be better than all of us. Like you.” Tony cleared his throat, standing. “I better get that doctor to look at you. Make sure nothing got knocked loose in that head of yours.” He started for the door, and TJ knew the conversation was over. He was not delusional enough to believe this moment of insight would fundamentally change his father. Tony the Tiger Caruso was the man he was, but in that moment, the goodness TJ knew was in there shown through. It was the knowledge of that goodness that made TJ push his father so hard because he knew, deep down, Tony had it in him to be better. Maybe they could both one day leave behind the sins of his father.  
“Dad,” he said. Tony stopped in the doorway. “I love you.”  
Tony Sr. patted the door frame. “Yeah. I love you too, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END.
> 
> This story is over, but there is more to come. The Triple C Mysteries, my Good Cop Coffee shop AU is becoming a cozy mystery series! Check out my first story (Caruso Coffee Shop) and look out for more fun.  
> Much love friends!


End file.
